


All For a Simple Shirt

by Jazoriah



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Banter, Flirting, M/M, Merlin is a snarky bastard, Misunderstandings, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:23:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazoriah/pseuds/Jazoriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is pretty sure that clumsy shop assistant with the ridiculous smirk just insulted him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All For a Simple Shirt

A high-pitched clatter rang out through the mostly deserted shop. Merlin groaned in frustration, smacking himself on the forehead as a fifth coat hanger dropped to the floor with an eighty-dollar pair of pants still attached. A pile of identical garments mocked him happily from their spot on the floor. Cheeks colouring in embarrassment, he knelt and gathered them into his arms, hurriedly slinging them back on the rack and straightening them with absolutely no finesse.

“That wasn’t very professional,” came a haughty voice from behind him. Merlin whirled around to see a tall, blonde man gazing at him in bemusement. He felt his face flame in indignation.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m pretty sure that rack got in my way on purpose,” he groused, hooking the last hanger onto the rack.

The newcomer snorted.

“Does furniture usually chase you round in the hope of getting knocked down?”

“My life’s just magical that way,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Did you want something?”

The man pursed his lips. “Actually going to do your job then? Good. I need this shirt in my size,” he said, waving a pinstriped pastel green button-up in Merlin’s face.

Merlin wrinkled his nose.

“You really don’t.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up.

“Excuse me?”

“You could run a nine-wheeler over a dog and have a more attractive garment than that shirt. Seriously, with _your_ skin?”

“Hey, you can’t speak to me like – “

“Where are you going, that you want to look like you got dipped in runny toothpaste anyway?”

The man spluttered. “This is completely unacceptable. Where is your manager?”

“Oh, relax. I’m doing you a favour,” said Merlin, trying and failing to conceal a smirk. “I’m Merlin, by the way, for when you file your complaint.”

“I’d have known that, if you were wearing your nametag like a proper employee. How on Earth have you managed to keep your job here?”

Merlin simply grinned, shrugging. “So, do you have a name or do I just call you angry-man-with-awful-taste?”

The blonde glared at him. “It’s Arthur,” he said. “And you can’t talk to a customer like that.”

“Well, Arthur,” said Merlin, “Pale green is most definitely not your colour. You need something richer, with a better contrast to you hair.”

“Well I… wait, are you actually trying to be helpful?”

“Shocking, I know. But I never could resist a pretty boy in need.”

“Pretty?” asked Arthur, face blank.

Merlin grinned a little, shrugging. He sized Arthur up for a moment before striding to a nearby rack and pulling out a shirt in a deep midnight blue.

“Try this,” he commanded, thrusting the garment towards the blonde.

Arthur stared at it for a moment, then at his companion, who grinned at him with an innocence that was entirely unconvincing.

He looked at his own choice for a moment, then threw it over a nearby table and snatched the blue shirt from Merlin with a glare. Merlin chuckled as Arthur strode to the change rooms and shut the door with far too much gusto.

“So what is this for, anyway?” said Merlin. “This place doesn’t really sell casual wear.”

“Business gala,” huffed Arthur. “We just finished a major acquisition.”

Merlin cringed. “Sounds like fun.”

Arthur hummed noncommittally. “They’re generally good people to be around. Until something like this comes along and they get to spend the night congratulating themselves.”

“Do you have to go?”

“My father’s the CEO, so yes.”

“Ah, well. You can wow them all with your superior fashion choices.”

“Very sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Always.”

A soft scrape came from the door as it unlocked and Arthur swung it open.

“Do I meet with your approval, maestro?”

Merlin’s eyes widened and he swallowed. The deep silk fabric perfectly accentuated Arthur’s (apparently very toned) muscles, and the blue not only brought out his eyes but also made his hair look a soft gold in contrast.

Merlin shook his head and dragged his gaze back up to Arthur’s face, which had morphed into an amused smirk. Merlin blushed, but composed himself with a grin.

“See, that is _exactly_ how you want to look for a work celebration. Professional and composed, with a hint of ravish-me-now-please.”

Arthur barked a surprised laugh, colour creeping into his cheeks.

“So, you’re saying I should get it.”

“I’m saying that if you don’t, I will run you down and force you into it the moment you leave.”

Arthur appeared to be fighting the smile stealing across his face. “Quite the aggressive sales pitch you’ve got there.”

“Trust me, I’m performing a service.”

Arthur chuckled, glancing back at the change room mirror.

“Well, if it’s good enough for clumsy, sarcastic shop attendants…”

“You left out charmingly insolent.”

“That’s not a thing, Merlin.”

“Of course it is, otherwise I’ve been doing this friendship thing all wrong.”

“That was you making friends?”

“Don’t knock it. It got you smiling, didn’t it?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, retreating back into the change room.

“Got me there. Maybe I won’t complain to your manager then.”

“Goodie! I’m still in the running for the gold star.”

“Oh, shove it, smartarse.”

Arthur re-emerged with the blue shirt slung over his arm, apparently trying to glare at Merlin. The effect was dampened somewhat by his twitching smile.

Merlin gestured to the sales desk with a bow and Arthur snorted, brushing past him and smacking him upside the head as he went.

“Hey, how is that fair?” grumbled Merlin, pushing his hair down.

“That was for the ‘awful taste’ comment,” Arthur threw over his shoulder. Merlin pursed his lips, but couldn’t really argue that.

Arthur stopped at the desk, waving a hand before the saleswoman who looked thoroughly absorbed in her computer.

“Oh, sorry sir. Just doing inventory,” she chirped, taking the proffered shirt and scanning it.

“No problem,” said Arthur, glancing back at his dark-haired companion, who was looking at sunglasses and doing absolutely nothing productive. Arthur shook his head.

“Is that all today, sir?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“That will be one hundred and nineteen dollars.”

Arthur handed over his card and quickly finished his purchase. He looked towards Merlin and paused, strangely reticent to leave the snarky brunette in the shop.

A small cough sounded from behind the desk.

“And you, sir? Is there anything I could help you with?” asked the lady.

Arthur glanced at her in surprise, unable to see another customer.

Merlin looked up at her. “No thanks, I’m just browsing.”

Arthur stilled, staring at the other man. Merlin was failing dismally at hiding a smirk and refusing to look Arthur in the eye.

“You don’t…”

Merlin snickered and winked at Arthur. Arthur’s mouth snapped shut and he could feel heat crawling up his neck. With one last cheeky wave, Merlin turned on his heel and made his way out of the shop, biting his lip to keep in his chuckles.

Arthur stood stock-still, flitting from furious to mortified to amused and back again. Finally he shook his head, snatching up his purchase and running after the brunette.

“Merlin!” he called to the retreating figure. Merlin stopped, turning to look at him with eyebrows raised.

“Yes, Arthur?”

“You… why did you tell me you worked there?”

“I didn’t. You assumed.”

“And you didn’t correct.”

“You looked so sure of yourself, far be it from me to shake that.”

“You told me I looked like road kill!”

“No, I told you road kill looked better,” Merlin corrected with a grin, “but only in that top, I promise.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t get it. Why?”

“Because it was fun,” said Merlin, grinning, “and because it gave me an excuse to talk to the cute guy with the short temper.”

Arthur stared at him, eyebrows drawn together.

“You’re pretty blunt with people, huh?”

“It’s a fault.”

“It’s a bit off-putting.”

“Only when what I think bothers people,” said Merlin, head cocked to the side. “Does it bother you?”

Arthur looked at his feet, conscious of the heat in his cheeks that hadn’t dissipated since he first stepped out of the change room. He glanced at the snarky man in front of him, taking in his sharp cheekbones and strangely compelling half-smile.

“Come to the gala with me,” he said, raising his chin decisively.

Merlin blinked. “What?”

“Come with me. There’s food, and good wine, and a room full of stuffy professional-types for you to make fun of.”

Merlin stared at him. “You want me to come with you?”

“Yes.”

“As a date?”

“Yes.”

Merlin opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“So this is what it’s like when you’re the one getting flustered,” said Arthur, smirking and raising his eyebrows in challenge. “I like it. Less temptation to strangle you.”

Merlin snapped his mouth shut.

“If I come,” he said, “you better not expect me play the sweet little charity-date, big-shot.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” chuckled Arthur. “You’re cuter when you’re holding the tattered remains of my self esteem.”

“You’re a really strange man, you know that?”

“Absolutely.”

Merlin stared at the infuriatingly self-satisfied blonde, and felt an excited warmth slowly spreading through his chest.

“Okay,” he said, unable to hold back a grin. “Let’s do this.”

Arthur beamed at him.

“Excellent.”                                                 

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is how I introduce myself to AO3. I hope you like it. 
> 
> And now's about the time that we can tell the rest of the internet to fuck off if they think the Merlin fandom is dying. If Labyrinth can survive after 25 years, so can we.


End file.
